


But I Grew My Hair, And You Got Tattoos

by thingshlcant (lookingfortherainbow)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Porn, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bottom Louis, Drinking, Drunk Sex, Harry and Louis are exes, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Bullying, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Set in 2014, Smut, Top Harry, but it is mentioned, halloween fic, its not very detailed and there's no physical violence involved, previous high school sweethearts, previous secret relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-08-02 17:17:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16309382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lookingfortherainbow/pseuds/thingshlcant
Summary: In the clear light of the kitchen, Harry could see all the details that were hidden in the dark and obscured by the crowd before in the living room. His hair was styled differently than in high school, his body more defined and toned, eyes a bit tired and glassy from the booze he’d consumed. All of the details were still familiar to Harry, they’d just grown naturally with Louis’ age, maturing him. Louis still looked like Louis, like home. All except for the tattoos that littered his arms, fully exposed in the muscle tank he was wearing.





	But I Grew My Hair, And You Got Tattoos

**Author's Note:**

> The story is set in 2014 and in one of the warmer states in the US. No one has an accent except Niall...'cause he's Niall.  
> Title is from the nostalgic song Being So Normal by Peach Pit. 
> 
> If there's any more tags I need to put let me know. Hope you enjoy the story and feel free to check out my tumblr: andtheywerebandmates.

“Harry! Happy Halloween! Get in, ya big hunk o’ muscle!” 

Harry didn’t have time to prepare himself before he was tugged roughly into an enthusiastic embrace, stumbling into his friend's arms. 

“Good to see you, too, Niall,” he laughed, “Sure did outdo yourself with the decorating, even have real carved pumpkins and everything.”

“Anything less would’ve been unacceptable,” Niall scoffed, as if the thought of putting less effort into his frat’s yearly halloween party was absolutely absurd.

He smiled as Niall turned to greet Liam, Harry’s childhood best friend, who arrived with him. 

Niall and Liam both went to college together, had met in class the previous year as sophomores, had become extremely good friends, and Liam had more often than not spent his days in the frat house Niall belonged to, though Harry wondered whether he didn’t sometimes go only to get a glimpse of Zayn, one of Niall’s frat brothers. Once Liam had introduced Niall to Harry, it lead to a tight bond between all three of the boys regardless of knowing each other only a year, and, therefore, granted them the privilege to go to notorious said party. 

It was Harry’s first time coming, having been busy apprenticing at the bakery he was still employed at when Liam had invited him last year. He took in his surroundings, the bass of the song playing throughout the house pounding in his chest. The walls had fake cobwebs stretched over them with fake, giant spiders attached, and all the lights had been replaced with purple and orange bulbs, making it hard to see well through the packed bodies in the living room, swaying and grinding to the beat of the music. 

Most everyone was well on their way to getting drunk or wasted, and Niall pulled Harry and Liam into the kitchen to catch up with the rest of the crowd’s buzzed state.  

An hour later, Harry was just about to pull out his best dance moves, vowing to himself that  _ this _ time he could prove to Liam that he  _ did not _ look like a dad dancing at a barbecue, no matter what he said. He’d been watching dance tutorials online, there was no way he hadn’t improved. That all came to a stop when he looked up at the familiar shouts resounding through the room above everyone else, his eyes zeroing in on the one person he’d been trying to clear his mind of since he was sixteen. 

Louis fucking Tomlinson was center of the goddamn living room, loud voice filling the room and Harry’s head with painful memories he didn’t want to remember with each joyful, intoxicated laugh. He’d heard that laughter in all of it’s states--drunk, sober, playful, and, most gut-wrenchingly, soft. And now he was hearing it again, watching him light up the dimly lit room as he danced with another man, pouring the remaining contents of his beer cup into the other man’s mouth, the liquid sloshing everywhere, the sound of Louis’ laughter only being muted because the other man pulled him into a messy kiss full of tongue. 

Harry was going to be sick. 

“Harry?” He heard Liam yell over the music, the sound of his voice ringing in his ears as he dragged himself out of the throngs of people filling up the living room, stumbling towards the unfiltered light in the kitchen where he could see properly and not stumble over another couple making out on the couches. 

Liam was close behind, asking him questions that only blurred into noise inside Harry’s ears, a certain someone’s laughter still ricocheting off the walls of his head, taking up the functioning parts of his brain. 

A glass of water was shoved into his hand as he leaned over the sink, sweat beading on his forehead and clamming up his hands. 

He only answered after he’d downed the whole glass. “Thought I was gonna puke back there,” he slurred. 

“Yeah, so did I. You looked like you’d seen a ghost,” Liam said. “Was it just the alcohol? I swear you were staring at someone, but it was so dark in there--”

“I wasn’t staring at anyone,” Harry interrupted, pulling his long curls from his sweaty face. “I’m fine, thanks for the water,” Harry softened, smiling at his friend who was hunched close to him in the same position he was leaning on the sink, his own brown eyes a little unfocused as he studied Harry as best he could with alcohol fogging up his brain. 

“Alright, if you’re sure,” he rubbed Harry’s shoulder.

“You seen Zayn around?” Harry rushed out, wanting to change the subject. 

“To be honest, I was having too much fun laughing at your dad moves to be on the look-out,” Liam laughed.

Harry pointed a finger at him, squinting before dropping his hand back down. “I’m going to let that slide, but only because I’m taking that as a compliment since I managed to distract you from who you like.”

Liam perked up, snapping his fingers. “Speaking of liking people, remember that kid you had a huge crush on in high school? I think he was in there, he was making out with some dude. Small world we live in. Also so weird to see that, I mean, I thought he was straight. Never said anything about being gay back then or bi, maybe he’s bi,” Liam rambled. 

Stomach roiling unpleasantly as the words kept spilling from Liam’s mouth, Harry bowed his head, knuckles turning white from how hard he was gripping the counter. He tried to appear unaffected as the room started spinning suddenly, his knees wobbling with the force of the ache in his heart.  

“God, what was his name? You know who I’m talking about, don’t you, H? What’s his face who played soccer? He was pretty popular,” Liam said, trying to jog Harry’s memory as he slumped, blank faced against the counter. “Was really good at pranking all the teachers?”

“ _ What’s his face who played soccer _ ? God, is _ that _ what my legacy has turned out to be?”

Whipping their heads around from how they were huddled, both men’s eyes settled on Louis. 

Harry’s breath caught, just like all the other times he’d seen him standing before him. 

“Louis,” he introduced himself, reaching a hand out to Liam, small smile on his face. 

“Liam. Nice to meet you. Didn’t expect us to be introducing ourselves  _ after _ high school,” Liam laughed. 

Louis chuckled and Harry focused on breathing properly so he didn’t black out from panic, mind too muddled to pay attention to how Louis was telling Liam how he remembered him.

In the clear light of the kitchen, Harry could see all the details that were hidden in the dark and obscured by the crowd before in the living room. His hair was styled differently than in high school, his body more defined and toned, eyes a bit tired and glassy from the booze he’d consumed. All of the details were still familiar to Harry, they’d just grown naturally with Louis’ age, maturing him. Louis still looked like Louis, like  _ home. _ All except for the tattoos that littered his arms, fully exposed in the muscle tank he was wearing. 

“Harry,” Louis nodded to him, blue eyes brewing with emotion, face sombering as he turned from Liam who Harry now saw was walking away, greeting Zayn, the two of them going outside, deserting Harry right in his time of need. 

“I can’t do this,” Harry choked out, fleeing the kitchen. 

Louis was hot on his heels. “Harry, wait!”

Harry counted the steps as he climbed them, still tipsy. He glanced behind himself to see Louis taking the stairs one at a time, both feet planted on each step before climbing the next one like a five year old who still didn’t have full control over his motor skills. Harry fought against the onslaught of fond feelings at seeing that same habit of his after so much time apart.

“Harry, please,” Louis tried, stumbling over the last step as Harry carelessly opened and closed each of the frat boys’ bedroom doors, not caring about the pillows and curses being thrown at him as he interrupted some couples in the throes of passion. 

Where was Niall? Why had Liam left him like that? Oh yeah, ‘cause he thought Harry would feel lucky to get acquainted with his first  _ real _ crush. God, he couldn’t believe he’d described Louis like that to his best friend. He was  _ such _ an embarrassing child. 

He sped into Niall’s room, finding some relief in being somewhere familiar. Louis slammed the door shut behind him before he reached out to grab Harry’s shoulder.

“Hazza, I just wanna talk--shit!” Louis slammed into Harry’s chest as he wheeled on him. 

For a few moments there was grunting and awkward shuffling as Harry fell backwards onto Niall’s unmade bed, Louis collapsing on top of him. As soon as Harry gripped onto Louis’ shoulders he hoisted them both up, shoving Louis off him but keeping a tight grip on him, and glared straight at the man who he’d once known as a boy. 

“First of all,” he growled, “don’t you dare use that name on me. You lost that privilege when you just up and left me after school ended and you got into college, even after promising me you’d stay in touch, that you’d visit me, that you'd come out and we wouldn’t be a secret anymore _.” _ His nails bit into Louis’ soft skin, tears pricking his eyes with the sensation of having Louis under his hands again under such different and terrible circumstances. 

Louis’ eyes were wide, stripped of defenses, filled with fear, staring back at Harry with so much guilt and sorrow that it made Harry look away, a tear running down his cheek. A voice in his head, the sober, logical one screamed at him to stop, to shut his mouth, telling him he’d regret whatever rage filled words would come out of his mouth. He ignored it, alcohol burning in his stomach alongside the longing and anger at the unfair situations he’d had to go through as a teenager and fixed Louis with another stony glare. 

“Secondly, you wanna talk? What do you wanna talk about? How about we talk about the fact we never got to tell anyone we were dating while we were together? Or about the fact I cared so much about you, lov-loved you,” Harry stuttered, voice cracking and lips trembling as he carried on, “so much that I kept my promise that I wouldn’t tell a soul about us until we both thought it best to do so and my best friend just thinks of you as the kid I had a giant crush on to _this_ _damned_ day.”

“Harry, please,” Louis whispered, tears trailing down his cheeks. 

“Or how about we talk about the fact that I can never get you out of my head, that after four years, I still dream about you, still wake up feeling like something isn’t right because I can’t text you good morning even though I still have your number in my old phone because I couldn’t and  _ still can’t _ bear to delete any of the conversations we had or throw that phone away. Or how about the fact that I am still in fucking love with you, Louis Tomlinson.”

Harry only took two breaths before his next exhalation was sucked out by Louis’ mouth surging into his, his knees going weak, moving backwards, and falling to the bed without protest, the energy used to spill everything he’d wanted to scream at Louis since they’d separated wearing him out. The familiarity of Louis’ thin lips on his own, the taste of liquor on his tongue as he licked into his mouth, pulled the anger from him, longing at the emotion’s core, that ever-present ache in his heart burning through his limbs and his chest. Clawing at Louis’ back, he managed to slip his hands under his shirt, palms coming in contact with smooth skin, fingertips reacquainting themselves with the sensation of his now more prominent back muscles tensing with each movement. 

Louis latched onto his neck, sucking and licking, causing Harry’s jaw to slacken, a groan escaping him, eyes fluttering closed at the sensation. Running his hands down Louis’ body, he gripped his ass in his hands, shoving Louis down into him. Harry hissed as Louis rolled his hips into him, letting him feel his arousal, Louis’ answering moan vibrating into Harry’s skin where it was caught between his teeth and going straight to his dick.

Pulling Louis flush to himself, Harry turned them over, succeeding in stripping off Louis’ shirt and messing the sheets up further.

He reconnected their lips, Louis’ arms circling around his shoulders, palms caressing the nape of his neck, fingers toying with the roots of his hair. The room filled with the slick sound of their lips and tongues sliding against one another, the music downstairs an ill-fitting soundtrack to the noise of their increasingly harsh breathing and moans they let slip here and there. When Harry palmed over Louis’ half hard dick, still trapped in denim confines, his mind blanked of everything but the sound of Louis’ broken moan and the sight of his abs clenching. 

“You have a chest tattoo, too,” Harry spoke, startling Louis and even himself at the sound of his own rough voice breaking through their silence. 

Louis just stared on as Harry worked Louis’ jeans open without looking, gaze fixated on the cursive inked below his collarbones, the moonlight flooding in through the window shining over his tattooed body. 

_ It is what is is. _ Louis used to say it all of the time when speaking about their situation, when speaking about the homophobia that ran rampant in their school and Louis’ own home. 

With his other hand, he gently traced over it before ducking down, laving the lines with his tongue. Logically, he knew he couldn’t feel them, but it felt as if each letter he passed over that tasted of Louis’ musk and salt would be burned into his tongue forever, a reminder, some type of consolation that Louis had not forgotten their conversations, that he’d deemed them important enough to forever etch them into his skin with just one line that held so much pain, so many memories.

Louis’ chest heaved under his touch, and his hips twitched with need. 

Pulling himself out of his reverie, Harry leaned back, kneeling on the bed to take his shirt off as Louis retrieved a small packet of lube and a condom from his pants’ pocket. 

The image of that man who was dancing with Louis before, shoving his tongue down his throat, flashed through Harry’s mind and a feverish heat flooded through his body. He had no right to be jealous of some random man Louis had drunkenly made out with, but he couldn’t find it in himself to feel guilty at the pride swelling in his chest that Louis was the one helping  _ him _ out of his pants and  _ he _ was the one shoving Louis’ own jeans down, that it was  _ his _ hand stroking Louis’ hard shaft,  _ his _ eyes witnessing the beauty of Louis fighting to keep control of his twitching limbs and losing out to pleasure, arching his back and gripping the sheets as Harry bobbed his head up and down over him, spit dribbling down Harry’s chin and Louis’ cock and into the trimmed dark hairs nestled between his thighs. 

Louis’ hands found purchase in Harry’s snarled tresses when Harry’s lubed up finger breached his tight hole, his legs steepling and trembling as Harry focused on opening him up, sucking bruises into the skin over Louis’ hip bones. When Harry found his spot, Louis yelped and scraped his blunt nails over Harry’s scalp before gripping more hair and tugging, Harry muffling his moans by feeding Louis’ dick into his mouth again and swallowing around him. 

Louis’ leg kicked out, choking down noises of pleasure, and pulling strong enough that Harry let him slip out of his mouth.

He knew what Louis wanted, and obliged, slowly pushing into him once he’d rolled the condom over his straining erection and coated himself with lube. 

Slowly, he pushed into tight heat, each second excruciatingly good, and excruciatingly painful with the added thought that this would probably never happen again. Getting to feel Louis encase him, intertwining and curling into one another again would never be repeated. But Harry had never dared to hope for even this to happen, so he blinked back the tears that threatened to spill and began thrusting faster into Louis, taking in every movement and facial expression that was on display for him to witness. He was a humble catalyst that was lucky enough to relearn the ways to ignite the fire inside Louis that raged with the force of a thousand suns. 

Louis was clawing at his back, biting at his shoulder, digging the heels of his feet into Harry’s arse, his mouth closing around his earlobe and suckling, Harry’s nose buried in the skin of his neck, huffing as he searched for Louis’ spot, eyes rolling back as Louis’ natural musk intoxicated him.

He began grunting with the effort, tears slipping out from his eyes, unwarranted, body involuntarily wrapping around Louis’ own lithe one like it was trying to cocoon him in all the emotions Harry was feeling, savoring the rasp of Louis’ voice in his ear as he urged him on with,  _ ‘that’s it’, ‘like that, love’, _ and _ ‘you’ve got it, Harry, come on’.  _

When Harry angled his hips just right he was rewarded with a loud cry, the point of pleasure releasing something inside Louis, the sounds becoming constant, high pitched and hoarse. 

Harry couldn’t keep his own pleasure contained after that, the dewy glisten of Louis’ skin in the dark room, the arch of his back would be enough to make him groan freely from the start, had he not felt strange, like he was waiting for this dream of a scenario to end and wake up alone in his cold bed, in his and Liam’s shared apartment.        

Hearing Louis so wound up in bliss made Harry double his efforts. The pull of arousal in the pit of his stomach, the tightening of his balls were enough to warn him that he wouldn’t last much longer. It was when Louis gripped the sweat-dampened hair by the nape of his neck and gave a sharp, sudden tug that Harry released a sob, thrusting in deep and holding himself there as Louis came all over their torsos, shuddering so hard it jostled Harry and keening into Harry’s shoulder, the raw sound muffled by bare skin. The sudden realization that Louis had come untouched had Harry erratically moving his hips. 

“Lie to me, please, _ ungh, _ say you--say you love me,” Harry grunted into Louis’ neck. 

“I love you,” came Louis’ hushed reply. 

“Again.”

“I love you.”

_ “Ungh, fuck, _ again,” he choked out, unable to stop the tears that were rolling down his face. 

“I love you,  _ Hazza,” _ Louis whispered, voice scratchy, and Harry thought he could feel tears wetting the cheek his forehead was turned against, but he was too lost in his release to tell, groaning into Louis’ neck, positioned so he could keep his arms securely wrapped around Louis’ body. 

Neither of them said anything as Harry pulled out and threw away the condom and he and Louis wiped themselves off with the tissues next to Niall’s bed, an uncomfortably convenient place, which neither of them commented on.

Harry turned his back to Louis, curling in on himself under the covers, what felt like a hundred pound stone sinking inside his stomach, room thick with the scent of sex. He could still hear people shouting from downstairs, the bass was still going strong and someone was fucking loudly in the next bedroom on the other side of the wall he was facing.

Even so, his breath was evening out, his eyes were drooping closed. 

Before he went under, the sheets rustled behind him and a strong, gentle arm draped itself over Harry’s waist and shaky breath skittered over the back of Harry’s neck, sending shivers down his spine as it cooled the sweat there. 

Harry’s last thought was _ ‘closer’, _ his mind storing away the sight of an inked up arm holding him together so he wouldn’t fall apart as he slept. 

  
  
  
  


~~~

  
  
  


The house was an absolute wreck, that was the third thing Harry noticed after he’d woken up the next morning. 

The second thing he’d noticed was that he didn’t know where he’d put his jacket last night which was bad because that had his wallet in it and his car keys. 

The first thing was that Louis was gone and so were his clothes, along with his warmth and any hope that Harry might have had that something good could’ve come from whatever last night was. 

He padded through the kitchen, clothed in borrowed sweatpants and a t-shirt from Niall’s closet, hopping on bare feet around numerous spills to get a glass of water from the sink.

He checked the time as he sipped from his glass, noting that it was eight in the morning which explained the absence of noise all throughout the house. He wasn’t worried about Liam, knowing that since the car was still outside he’d probably crashed in the guest bedroom where Niall let them sleep sometimes or in any other room in the house. It wasn’t a rarity for them to crash at the frat house. Niall loved having them over. He felt slightly guilty for having sex in Niall’s bed last night, but since he hadn’t been woken up by him, clearly Niall didn’t care too much. 

“He better have been a good fuck, considering I didn’t kick you out of me own bed after hearing you two going at it,” Niall’s voice came from behind him, Irish accent thicker in the morning, seemingly reading Harry’s mind.

Harry choked on his water, sputtering and coughing, Niall hitting him on the back to help him. 

_ God, was this sink cursed or something? _

“I thought you were asleep,” Harry croaked. 

“Nah, I woke up an hour ago. Was eating cereal on the couch when you came downstairs whining to yourself about the sticky floor. So, what’d’ya do to Louis?”

“What do you mean, what’d I do? I mean, yeah, we fucked,” Harry admitted, ignoring the sting of his blush and how weird it felt to even talk about Louis to anyone, “but he’s not even here so, clearly, I wasn’t good enough to stick around for. Wait, how do you know Louis?”

“I know him ‘cause of Zayn. He used to go to our college but he graduated last year. And, mate, he’s been outside on the back porch for the past hour chain-smoking, looking proper depressed and wearing what I think is your coat in, like, eighteen degree weather. Don’t even know why you wore that heavy of a jacket here when global warming is in full-swing.”

“It’s sixty-five,” Harry corrected and Niall blinked once. “Sixty-five fahrenheit,” Harry expounded, pointing his toes inward and rubbing them together. 

Niall blinked twice more. “I’m well aware, H.  _ Fucking Americans,”  _ Niall mumbled, shaking his head. “Stop trying to change the subject by being a smartarse and go fix Louis or Zayn will kill me and then probably you,” Niall directed as he walked away, ‘Lucky You’ printed around the waistband of his boxers, shiny little clover leafs adorning the material.

Hesitantly, Harry made his way to the porch door, stepping outside and sliding it closed behind him. Louis didn’t look back, and Harry gingerly sat on the first step of the three beside him, staring at the impressive little mound of cigarette butts that had accumulated on the ground. 

“So,  _ that’s _ where my jacket went,” Harry said, turning to look at Louis as he flicked another butt onto the pile. 

“I get cold,” Louis said with a shrug, brushing his nose gingerly with his finger. “Besides, smells good,” he tacked on. 

Harry pushed down the urge to smile fondly at the compliment and bury his face into Louis’ neck. Instead they sat silently next to each other for a minute, Harry also resisting the urge to point out that Louis hadn’t been cold last night in his tank.

“You didn’t used to smoke,” Harry said, toeing the pile with his bare foot. “Said you wouldn’t start, that you had made it to eighteen and you weren’t about to start now. I mean, that’s what you said then. When you were eighteen.”

Silence followed. Harry peeked over at Louis, every few seconds or so. 

“You also said you wouldn’t get tattoos,” Harry carried on. “Said they were so permanent you couldn’t imagine having them on your skin.” 

“I also said we would be together forever.” He let out a bitter chuckle. “I was eighteen, Harry. I was--I was only two years older than you and fucking terrified,” Louis started, locking his gaze with Harry’s. “I wanted all of it with you, wanted to be public with our relationship _.  _ But we started dating at the end of my senior year and I was just freaking out, you know? I knew if I came out, any financial help for college I had from my dad would be taken away and then I’d be stuck living with him until I gained enough money to pay for it all myself, not to mention I was terrified of being kicked out what with how my dad talked about gay people. And then there was all of the terrible things I heard kids say about the few openly gay students at our school. I was so scared for both of us that I kept putting off us coming out. And then, it was time for me to go to college and I let the guilt of letting you down and still not feeling ready to come out win over.” 

“And you left,” Harry murmured. 

A moment of silence passed. “I still remember that last date we had when you--” he choked, rubbing his eyes, “you told me you loved me, how we could make it work. And I said it back, but I was panicking inside. Instead of being completely honest with you, I just...I left. Like you said. Didn’t speak to you the days leading up to leaving, ignored all your calls and texts once I was gone. And I regretted that decision from the moment I made it.”

Harry let Louis’ words sink in, the first time he’d heard Louis speak of the situation since Louis had left. Louis had tried to contact Harry a few months into the school year and Harry had ignored Louis’ attempts at reaching out. He hadn’t given Louis a chance to explain himself, too angry at him and the unfair situation to deal properly.

“I got outed, you know?” Harry revealed. 

Louis eyes snapped to his in shock, but Harry stared at the ground. 

“After you left, I felt like my support system was gone, didn’t even attempt coming out to my family. But I went to this party that Liam’s friend was throwing, got drunk enough that I wasn’t thinking clearly and ended up making out with some guy I didn’t even know. I didn’t think anyone at our school would be there since Liam’s friend didn’t go to ours, but I was wrong. So, somehow, whoever witnessed the kiss spread the news all over school. I had to move schools because the bullying got so bad. My family found out and that led to me admitting that I’d had a secret boyfriend but I wouldn’t tell them who it was, and I denied Liam the same information,” Harry recalled, voice rough with sleep and emotion at remembering that trying time. “And I’d had to go through all that without the one person who I thought would have my back through thick and thin.”

Louis scrubbed at his eyes repeatedly, sniffling, eyes full of pain when he listened to what Harry had gone through. 

“I had no idea, Harry. God, I--I fucked up so bad. If I would have just done what we originally planned you wouldn’t have had to go through any of that. And you wouldn’t have been alone,” Louis croaked, eyes boring into Harry’s with remorse.         

“I wasn’t completely alone. Liam transferred to the school I chose to go to with me. My family was also supportive.”

“You have an amazing friend in Liam,” Louis said, his lips twitching up at the corners briefly. 

“I also had an amazing boyfriend,” Harry said. “I was just too angry to hear him out.” 

Louis searched his eyes and scoffed. “You had a coward for a boyfriend, Harry. You’re right, you know, it was terrible of me to even suggest having a relationship when I knew how fucked my circumstances were. It was wrong of me and I should’ve known better. And I don’t blame you for being mad at me still.”

Harry shook his head. “Louis, I ended any chance of us getting back together or making up by ignoring your calls. I was so angry, I didn’t even want to talk to you, even though you were the only one I wanted. God, I was so stupid,” he croaked, insides aching with the desire to rewind everything and fix the mess they’d made.

“No, don’t you say that, alright?” Louis reprimanded, taking Harry’s hands in his, eyes shining with unshed tears. “Getting angry at yourself won’t do you any good, and just because I pathetically tried calling  _ months _ after I left doesn’t make the situation we were in okay. I was so muddled with how much I wanted you back then that I wasn’t strong enough to keep away from you or to end what we had started so it wouldn’t end in disaster like it eventually did.”

“I wouldn’t have listened, Louis. I knew the uncertainties of getting into a secret relationship while being closeted enough to make a logical decision and I didn’t care. I was stupidly hoping things would just magically work out. I wasn’t even really thinking of the consequences even though you tried stressing to me how scared you were about the aftermath of us coming out. You know, even after everything, I don’t regret the months we had together, trying as they were,” Harry insisted. 

Louis was studying Harry’s hands, thumbs rubbing over his skin like he always used to do, a habit Harry had forgotten about but had loved dearly.

“There’s been so many times when I wanted to drive back to your house and work it all out, to at least say I was sorry for everything in person, but I just...I didn’t know how seeing me, the person who had broken our promise, could erase your pain by just saying I was sorry. I’ve thought about what I’d say to you every day, all these years, if I ever got the chance to see you again, or to speak to you over the phone. And now that I have you right here, that’s all I  _ can _ say, is I’m sorry. And if given the chance to go back I would do so much differently. I would’ve been brave, would have stayed with you the way I should’ve,” Louis spoke tenderly, brushing Harry’s hair away from his face when Harry didn’t pull away from the hand-holding.

“I can only say the same back for not picking up the phone when you called. An apology from you is enough for me. _ You’re _ enough, Louis,” Harry squeezed his hands, gently.

“So are you. You’ve always been enough. More than, actually.” 

They sat for a few moments, studying each other. 

“You’ve been pointing out all the things that’ve changed about me, but you’ve gone through your own changes, too.”

“I just grew out my hair,” Harry mumbled, looking at Louis through his eyelashes as he traced Louis’ tattoos, Louis having pushed up the sleeves of the jacket. 

“Mm, and it’s lovely. The Curly I knew wouldn't have dared to grow it out so long, or wear boots with heels, or paint his nails black,” Louis smiled, referring to the chipped polish on Harry’s nails and the heels he’d been wearing at the party last night. “But changes aren’t all physical. You’re confident in how you carry yourself, now. Even after all that you’ve been through.”

“Eh, I just grew out my hair,” Harry repeated, shrugging as he tried to hide the scarlet flush that was climbing his neck and reaching towards his ears.

Louis chuckled, eyes never leaving Harry’s face. 

“Do you hate all my changes?” Louis asked after a beat, voice raw with the need to be reassured and Harry’s heart felt like it was breaking. 

“I could never hate anything about you, Louis,” Harry breathed, scooting closer to the man turned towards him on the porch step, autumn air ruffling his bedhead that sat atop his head adorably and causing a quiet, melodic whoosh in the treetops, leaves falling all around. 

“Most of the tattoos,” Louis took a deep breath, “they’re for you. I remembered the ones you were obsessed with when we were together and got them inked on me. Shit, that sounds creepy when you say it out loud, but, um, I think of them as a tribute to what we had.”

Harry looked over them closely, remembering now all the times he’d pointed out tattoos to Louis and said he’d convince him one day to get at least one complimentary set with him. And now, four years later, Louis’ arms were scattered with the same ones he’d talked about and Harry's skin hadn’t been touched once by a needle. He looked at Louis in awe. 

“I wasn’t lying last night, you know,” Louis said. “I love you. I have always loved you. I don’t think I’m capable of stopping.”

“Even after everything I said? I was so angry and overwhelmed last night, and drunk, I’m sorry how I just--I flew off the handle, Louis.”

“Even after everything you said,” Louis nodded. “The thing is, I think, if we can talk calmly like we’re doing now about our past and find a way to heal together, allow ourselves to learn about each other like we’re new people, which we kind of are, we can have an actual chance together. No secrets, no lying. No dad to make me afraid because when I finally came out he cut me off. This is a chance to start new.”

“I’m so sorry about your dad, Louis. I can’t imagine how hard that is,” Harry said, voice filled with sorrow. 

“We both went through our battles. I’m better off without his hate. Besides, you’re everything I’ve ever needed and wanted. I’d like a chance to do this the right way. If you don’t mind the cigarettes and the tattoos too much, that is,” Louis chuckled, nerves apparent in his smile, though his hands were steady as they held Harry’s clammy ones.

“I want it all, want the tattoos, the cigarettes. I want you, Lou.”

Harry cupped his face, wiping away a stray tear that fell from Louis’ soft blues and closed his mouth over the watery smile that had made its way onto Louis’ lips, savoring how they moved to meld against his, gentle and full of adoration. 

“Tell me the truth,” Harry whispered against his lips. 

“I love you, Hazza,” Louis whispered back. 

Harry pulled away, rubbing his nose against Louis’, matching blissful grins on both of their faces. 

“I love  _ you,  _ Lou.”  

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I greatly appreciate any kudos, criticism, and thoughts you want to comment on the story.
> 
> Thanks for reading! :)


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